


when i am gone what will you do?

by Mr_Phich



Series: everyone needs a chance to be small [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Daddy!Steve, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Non-Sexual Age Play, Phil Coulson lives, Relationship Negotiation, Steve Likes to Help People, little!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Phich/pseuds/Mr_Phich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumors of Agent Phil Coulson’s death have been greatly exaggerated. Steve wishes that wasn’t going to be such a problem.<br/>(Or, Phil returns to a world where Steve and Clint have been ageplaying. It takes some getting used to.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very little actual age play in this one. This story helps to establish and set up a dynamic between Steve, Phil, and Clint which will continue to evolve throughout the series. Updates weekly.
> 
> And one warning I didn't know how to tag: Phil has a hard time understanding/supporting Clint's age play at first.

_When I am Gone_

 

_When I am gone what will you do?_

_Who will write and draw for you?_

_Someone smarter - someone new?_

_Someone better - maybe YOU!_

 

_-Shel Silverstein_

 

Phil Coulson sat, radiating tension, in a SHIELD meeting room two doors down from where Fury was breaking the news. It had been almost a year, now, since Phil’s life model decoy was destroyed on the helicarrier by Loki and Fury _still hadn’t told the team._ Phil didn’t have the words for how angry that made him. Anger masked a hundred other feelings, mostly guilt and concern. Of course, he’d been under the whole time. There wasn’t anything he could have done. But he should have _known_. This was the kind of shit Fury pulled. Phil should have told Natasha that he’d been under life model protocols for that mission. He should have left a note - something for Clint. 

Down the hall, something smashed. Phil barely restrained himself from jumping and wondered what the latest Hulk protocols were. But the noise ended and nothing followed, which would not have been the case for a Hulk incident. Phil’s thoughts whirled back to the team. He wondered if they were still a team. Fury hadn’t said much, only that the Avengers were still active. Which...could mean anything, now that Phil was thinking about it. And _present and accounted for_ was not enough information about Clint and Tasha. Phil stood up and started to pace. It wasn’t that he thought it would be a good idea to go down there, but… he needed to know that Clint was okay. That he’d survived this last year, that he was more than just _present and accounted for._

Finally, after about an hour, when Phil was just about to lose the last of his (rather admirable) restraint and go down there and just _see_ , the door opened. It wasn’t Clint or Natasha, who he’d been hoping for, was the first thing that registered. Steve Rogers was wearing a t-shirt that looked like something Clint might wear, faded and loose and reading ‘when in doubt, tacos’ and a pair of jeans and Phil’s brain broke a little. Despite the casual dress, Roger’s face was blank and quiet, letting nothing show. He looked Phil up and down twice, as if checking for injuries (Phil’s familiar with the glance - he’s given it a hundred times himself. ) 

“Agent Coulson,” Rogers said, voice giving nothing away. Phil found himself falling into a military attention position and fought to stand still and straight, like he was Roger’s equal. Technically, he supposed, he was Roger’s superior as Fury had quickly reinstated him into his position of official team handler. He had been alarmed to learn that there had been no handler while he was gone, only a liaison. Teams needed handlers, especially ones as volatile as this one.

“Captain Rogers,” If it hadn’t been any other day, after any other year, Phil would have stopped there and stood his ground until Rogers relented and gave him something. But today, Phil was tired of waiting and not knowing, “Where are Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff?”

Something flickered behind the soldier in Roger’s eyes, a quick softening, that Phil wished he knew how to read.

“Agents Barton and Romanoff are with the rest of the team.”

Phil’s eyes narrowed. “I need to see them. Now.”

“I understand.” Rogers said, voice annoyingly calm and steady. “However, before I allow you to see them, I require some answers.”

“Before _you_ allow…” Phil spat, well past his limit for patience and calm. “Captain Rogers, I do not think you understand.”

“No. I don’t think you understand, Agent Coulson. It has been a year. It may shock you to know that things change in a year. Not as much as, say, seventy. And I’d rather we avoided that again.” Rogers was still just as calm and steady, but there was a gentleness now.

Phil felt himself deflate like a hot air balloon. He sat back down on the abandoned chair. Rogers took the one caddy corner to him, which was an oddly tactful move. Sitting across from him would have felt too much like an interrogation, while sitting next to him would have forced non-existent intimacy.

“They are healthy and well,” Rogers said as he sat and awkwardly arrange his long legs under the table. It was the first time he seemed human. “They are angry at Director Fury, but we all are. They’re probably not too pleased with me either. They wanted to come see you right away.” 

Something in Phil’s chest relaxed. That didn’t sound like people who were too angry to forgive him. It didn’t sound like people who had broken.

“I need to ask you some questions,” Rogers continued, “And then I can give you a sit-rep and take you to see them.” 

Phil eyed Rogers, up and down. This man had been his hero for longer than he could possibly remember. Phil had modeled his entire sense of morality and rightness on him for a long time. And now he was the only person who stood in the way of him and all that was left of Phil’s family. But, really, it was a good sign that Rogers was acting this way - protecting his team. Phil had to be glad that Clint and Natasha had that in someone, even if it wasn’t him.

“Fine. Ask your questions.”

Rogers leaned in close, eyebrows drawn together and down over his eyes. “You were really asleep? You didn’t know?”

“No.” Phil said, mildly puzzled.

“Because if you knew and let them hurt and could have done something…” The threat went unsaid.

“ _No._ ” Phil stated emphatically. “I would never.”

Rogers studied him for a long moment. “Alright. Okay, good. Now, explain exactly what happened. Fury wasn’t forthcoming with the details.” 

Phil snorted and Rogers shot him a little grin. Alright, then. They could do this. Phil started talking, first about the life model decoys and how they worked and the protocols under which they were used and how the mind that ran them was kept in a sort of coma and had to be woken by an outside force. Rogers interrupted only to ask soft, intelligent questions. As Phil explained the need for someone else to wake him, Rogers’ face clouded over and Phil found himself silently agreeing with the sentiment. Fury had a lot to pay for.

Finally, Phil finished, with waking yesterday and the few details Fury had given him about the past year. Rogers nodded thoughtfully and stood, walking over to the water cooler where he filled a cup up. He brought it to the table and set it in front of Phil. Phil drank it gratefully, studying Rogers thoughtfully. Phil didn’t know what he’d expected from this conversation, or from Rogers, but it wasn’t this quiet, thoughtful, gentle man in front of him. He’d only ever seen Rogers in battle, with a hard face and unbeatable determination, and on the old newsreels, laughing and joking with the Commandos. This was someone different.

“Sitrep?” Phil finally prompted. 

Rogers nodded. “Currently, I act as team leader. Natasha is my second in command.” Phil’s eyebrow rose. Natasha was not (had never been) a team player and despised hierarchy of any kind. Rogers didn’t seem to notice Phil’s surprise and continued, “While we are aligned with SHIELD, I choose which missions any of the team go on and which we take as a team.” Again, Phil had to swallow back his surprise - that SHIELD allowed that, that Natasha and Clint allowed it, that Rogers had that much power. “Tony funds us and provides us with any R&D we require. All acquired tech goes through Tony and Bruce before heading to SHIELD, though they occasionally call in specialists when needed. Those are the basics of team dynamics, at the moment. If you are to be our official handler, we’ll go over everything in more detail later.”

“You’re okay with that?” Phil was unable to keep himself from asking, as this seemed separate from everything that Rogers has managed to achieve.

Rogers was giving him a considering eye. “I don’t trust SHIELD. And they already know it, so you don’t need to worry about this room being bugged. This isn’t the first time Fury has screwed us over or misled us, and I know it won’t be the last. But I believe that mostly they try to do the right thing. And Natasha and Clint trust you and think you’re one of the good guys. That’s enough for me.”

 _Oh. That’s how he’d done it,_ Phil thought. _He trusted his people and he respected them. Why is that so surprising?_  

“On to other things,” Rogers continued. “Currently we all live at Stark Tower in Manhattan. Tony had already confirmed that you have a place there, should you wish.”

“You all live together?” Phil asked incredulously. 

Rogers grinned, bigger this time. “Yeah.”

“And none of you killed each other?!”

“Not yet,” Rogers said with a small chuckle. “We have some house rules, but we’ll go over those with the rest of the team. I will be heading back there after, and the team would like to see you. Would you like to join us? You can decide about staying at the tower after, no rush.” 

Phil nodded, trying to wrap his head around all of the Avengers living together in relative peace. He can’t 

“Agent Coulson,” Rogers said, laying a hand on Phil’s shoulder, “Welcome back.”

Phil sighed and smiled. “Thank you, Captain Rogers.”

 

They headed to a side entrance where they were picked up by a vehicle that was decidedly not SHIELD issue. Phil didn’t ask, because it had to be Stark’s. It was more subtle than Phil would have thought possible, but it was still beyond what SHIELD usually used. The ride into Manhattan passed in a whirlwind. Rogers kept up a conversation with the driver up front, a young man who seemed to be bewildered but pleased at Captain America’s attention. (But also seemed to be someone Rogers had some familiarity with, since he asked about his grandfather). Rogers didn’t speak directly to him again until they were stepping into the elevator from Stark’s private garage. Rogers pressed the button for the 88th floor, and turned to Phil. 

“I trust you’re familiar with JARVIS, Tony’s AI?”

Phil nodded, just as JARVIS spoke, “Welcome back, Agent Coulson.”

“He monitors all the security. Right now you’re on a temporary clearance - some of Tony’s people will set you up with the appropriate clearance tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Captain.”

“You're welcome,” Rogers said, something odd in his voice. He turned again, face to the speakers above the door, “JARVIS, is everybody on the common floor?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. Dr. Banner and Sir are teaching Prince Thor _Scrabble_ again, Master Barton and  Agent Romanoff are watching and keeping score.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” The numbers had been steadily ticking up throughout this conversation. They were at 81 when Rogers suddenly said, “I just want you to know, a lot has happened in the last year. Things...may not be like what you expect.”

“Already nothing is as I expected, Captain Rogers. I believe I can handle a few more surprises.” Rogers sort of grimaced and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking more uncomfortable than he had all day and Phil suddenly got the sense that maybe there was something big that Rogers wasn’t telling him. He didn’t have much time to think it out before the elevator doors were sliding open.

 

Phil found himself suppressing surprise, despite what he had just said. Stark, Dr.Banner, and Thor were all seated on the floor around a low table where Scrabble was carefully laid out. At the moment they were arguing vociferously about whether mjolinir was an acceptable scrabble word. Dr. Banner was leaning back on his palms, grinning and laughing at his team mates. Natasha appeared to be bringing an ‘official scrabble dictionary’ over to the table. Given the many post it notes and the bent spine, Phl guessed that it was well used. The second half the room was raised up like a platform. Clint was sitting on the edge of this, legs tangled with the railing and pelting his team mates with small pieces of paper.

Rogers cleared his throat. Phil didn’t know what he expected from that, but somehow, everyone in the room heard it and turned to face the elevator. The joy and laughter shut down immediately, and Phil felt incredibly guilty for interrupting this night, for interrupting this team that had been built. He didn’t know what to say or do in that moment. Luckily, Rogers seemed to sense that and propelled him forward. The others were already getting to their feet. Only Clint seemed frozen in place. Suddenly, Phil was surrounded, words of welcome and appreciation flowing over him. A smack across his cheek brought Phil back to himself. Natasha was in front of him, hand still raised. 

“Don’t you ever do that again. Not ever.” She whispered fiercely, face pale and emotionless, but eyes fierce and angry and terrified.

Thor laid a hand on her shoulder. Phil expected him to lose it, but Natasha simply turned into it and Thor gently pulled her back from Phil. And then, there was Clint, standing in front of him. Rogers was now standing behind Clint’s shoulder and Clint looked...not broken. But shaken, shaken to his core. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets but his eyes looked straight at Phil and he didn’t  blink. Phil barely noticed as everyone but Clint, Tasha, and Rogers excused themselves.

“Clint, I wouldn’t have...I would never have…” Phil started to say. Clint launched himself into Phil’s arms and shuddered, the closest Phil had ever seen him get to crying. He bunched his hands into Phil’s suit and Phil wrapped his arms as tightly as he could manage around Clint and felt himself start to cry. He buried his face before Rogers could see and clung with all his might. He didn’t know how long they stood there, but eventually Clint pulled back and retreated. Phil received a quick, tight hug from Natasha next, before she, too excused herself. Phil felt his stomach sink, knowing that the ball was about to drop. He had a sudden, terrible fear that he was about to lose Clint to Captain America.

 

“Let’s sit,” Rogers finally said.  They end up on the couch, a gigantic curved masterpiece that leaves them no choice but to sit next to someone. Clint sat as far away as possible from Phil, but next to Rogers, and that’s when Phil knew he was about to lose him.

“Phil, there’s something Clint and I need to talk to you about.” Phil didn’t budge, didn’t blink. Rogers swallowed and glanced between Clint, who was fiddling with his t-shirt, and Phil, still as stone. “When you were...gone. I found out that Clint is sometimes little.”

 _Wait...what?_ Phil thought. That wasn’t what he had been expecting at all. In fact, it hadn’t touched his mind since he woke up. He had always tried not to think about that thing that Clint needed that Phil couldn’t give him, because Phil was the kind of partner who wanted to give everything. But he hadn’t been able to give Clint this thing he wanted. Phil had hoped (wished) that if he just ignored it, it would go away. But it hadn’t gone away, apparently, not even when Phil had. Instead, _Captain America_ had found out.

Rogers swallowed and rubbed his hands on his legs like he was wiping sweat away, but he kept going, “And Clint and I...we started ageplaying.” Clint glanced up at Phil and then quickly away.

Phil’s world shattered again. 

“I want to be clear. In no way does this replace your relationship with Clint. Clint and I _only_ play. That’s our relationship. I mean, we’re friends, but uhm… that’s obvious,” Rogers switched from rubbing his hands over his pant legs to through his hair and Phil could just not stop staring, trying to comprehend...whatever this was. “Obviously, you and Clint will have to talk about what you want now, and I don’t have any place in that conversation. But...Clint and I are going to keep playing.”

Phil blinked. He didn’t understand any of this, or how any of it would work, or...this was beyond his comprehension. He looked over at Clint, who was very firmly staring at his knees, hands still wringing his tee.

Rogers took a deep breath and soldiered on, “Clint and I only had a little time to talk, you understand. But… this is really important to both of us and it helps us both in so many ways. I know that Clint doesn’t want to have to choose between us. He wants to continue being in a romantic relationship with you and a big/little relationship with me. That’s going to take a lot of work for all of us. We’ll need to adjust. But. We didn’t want to keep this from you. Do...do you have any questions?”

Phil shook his head, feeling exhausted and drained and utterly clueless. “It’s been a long day, I really… I don’t know what to say right now. Except,” Phil glanced between Rogers and Clint. Phil and Clint had never been demonstrative, but he needed to say, “I love you Clint. And I want you to have the things that you want. I just..I need to sleep on it. I need to think.” Phil stood, trying to make it clear that he needed a moment.

“Of course.” Rogers nodded, valiantly trying to suppress the disappointment in his voice, but failing. “There’s a guest floor set up for you on the 87th floor. JARVIS will answer any questions you have. We can talk again tomorrow.”

Phil turned and headed into the elevator. It’s not until after the doors closed that he realized that Clint had not said one word to him all night.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short. Next chapter will be up this weekend to make up for it. As always, thanks for reading, kudoing, and commenting!

Phil didn’t sleep that night, though he was exhausted. The entire day whirled in his brain, but mostly his brain whirled around Clint. Being around Clint had always been like being dragged around by a magnetic force field. It didn’t take them long to fall into bed, and not long after that to realize that it meant a whole lot more than just sex ever could. They’d been together five years before Clint broached the topic, shortly before shit had hit the fan with the initial stirrings of Iron Man and Hulk. 

 

_Clint had left a book on Phil’s bedside table at their cabin, where they spent rare weekends away from SHIELD. Clint still didn’t read much, though he had enough skill to not be a liability now, thanks to SHIELD. So the book caught Phil’s attention right away. A chapter was marked with a post it note, and Phil turned to it. Clint had scribbled a question mark on the post it. The title of the chapter read Big and Little: The Dynamics of Age Play. Phil read the whole chapter before Clint came back from a (convenient) practice session in the woods. He recognized some of Clint in it, but none of himself. When Clint entered the room, looking nervous, Phil wished that he had recognized some of himself in it. He wished he could want to be Clint’s big._

_“I’m sorry.” Was all Phil could say. Clint nodded, and that was the last time they talked about it for months._

 

Later, Phil had been able to describe to Clint that caretaking in that way wasn’t something he could do, that the sort of power dynamics required for such a relationship were beyond him. Phil had never been very kinky, and if anything he had a kink for communication and consent. He couldn’t take control, this way, couldn’t give Clint the place he needed to know that everything was taken care of. Clint had said he understood, had said that he was glad to have Phil in any way he could, and that it wasn’t very important, anyway, just something he was curious about. 

Now Phil wondered how much of that was really true and how much had been Clint, self sacrificing again. A part of Phil was glad that Clint had what he’d wanted, someone to give him the things that Phil couldn’t. He was especially glad that Clint had someone while he was gone, someone that was looking out for him and putting his needs above their own.

But Phil had never been one to share. He was an only child. He wanted what Clint and he had always had, the understanding that they shared each other’s lives, that they leaned on each other, and held each other up. What if he lost that with Rogers in the picture? How could Phil in any way compete with _Captain America_?

By six am, Phil had given up on the bed altogether and was sitting at the breakfast bar, breathing in the scent of Stark’s expensive coffee. Suddenly, JARVIS spoke.

“Agent Coulson, Agent Barton is outside. He would like to know if you are awake and available.” 

Phil sighed, wishing he had some sort of answer for Clint. “Let him in.” The main door opened and Clint slipped through, looking just as as exhausted as Phil felt. He still wouldn’t look Phil in the eyes. He leaned with faux-casualness against the counter, but Phil could see all the still silent places on Clint, see the tension in the way he held his shoulders and hips.

“We shouldn’t have sprung that on you last night.” Clint said, voice soft. “But we didn’t want to lie.” 

“I’m glad you told me,” Phil said, not sure if he was telling the truth, but sure he wasn’t completely lying.

They stayed still a moment, finally properly looking at each other. Clint’s eyes were easier to read than they had ever been. He was a little skinnier than Phil would have liked, but otherwise he looked well. Healthy. Cared for.

“I missed you.” Clint said, throat tight.

“I’m sorry.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just, I want us to be together again.”

“I want that too. But I’m not sure...Can I ask some questions?”

Clint’s face and body closed off a little again, but he didn’t disappear or retreat completely and he nodded, slowly.

“How did it start? How did the Captain find out?”

Unexpectedly, Clint blushed. He tucked his hands deeper into his pockets. “I… things weren’t good, after.” Phil expected that understatement but wondered what _not good_ had looked like. There were a lot of dangerous places Clint could go when he was distressed - literally and figuratively. “I wasn’t very good at pretending that they were. Steve...found out. That, I wasn’t...good. I mean, and eventually about the other.” There were about 5,000 missing pieces in that, Phil figured, but given Clint’s usual ability to communicate and the fact that they had talked about this _thing_ all of two times, Phil didn’t feel steady enough to push for more.  

“When was that, when did you start….playing?” Phil asked, the word unfamiliar on his tongue.

Clint shifted again, looking all sorts of uncomfortable, “About seven months ago, I guess.”

Seven months was a long time, really. For Clint, anyway, who never had anyone stay in his life very long. Too long to count this off as just a casual thing they did sometimes, which….

“And how often?”

“Uhm. At least once a week. But...sometimes a lot more,” Clint said, blushing again, body folded tight and held tense.

“What’s a lot more?” Phil asked with narrowed eyes. This was hard. He hated seeing Clint so uncomfortable. He hated that it was his fault. He hated that he needed answers to these questions. He hated that these questions had to exist.

“Once we played a whole week,” Clint admitted, voice abnormally shy and quiet, not like the rough and tumble Clint that Phil knew and he wondered if he was seeing _that_ Clint. The jealousy reached new heights with the realization that there were parts of Clint that only Rogers got to see. He didn’t know if he could stand that. “Steve took me on vacation. We were gonna go again around Halloween.”

Clint sounded fond. He sounded excited.

Goddammit.

“Rogers said, you guys aren’t romantically involved? 

“No!” Clint said fiercely, standing up straight and looking more himself, sending a breath of relief through Phil’s lungs. Clint softened a little again, but in a familiar way. “Steve, uhm, actually thinks he might be asexual or demisexual. He doesn’t know, and uh, he hasn’t come out, so don’t say nuthin’. He won’t mind that I said anything to you though.” 

That relaxed the tight knot of jealousy in Phil’s chest. If there were parts of Clint that only Rogers got to see, at least there were parts of Clint that only Phil got to have.

“He sees me naked,” Clint said kind of suddenly. Phil looked up in surprise at him and Clint flushed and squirmed in place. “When I’m little. He changes my clothes and gives me baths and stuff, so...but it’s not ever sexual. Cause I’m little.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Clint asked, hope and confusion and caution in his voice.

“I love you. I want to be with you. It’ll be hard work, like the Captain said. But… you’re worth it.” 

Clint beamed and leaned in and gave Phil the kiss he’d been waiting for since yesterday.

Yes, this was worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

But Clint was different, he quickly found. Jumpier, to start, more likely to startle when Phil came up behind him on silent feet. He liked to be touched in different ways, when they fell into bed together, almost like he had a new body. He talked more easily than he ever had about things - not often, but sometimes Clint would just say something that he would have never said before, about missing Phil, or being hungry when he was a kid, or how much he liked Agatha Christie (since when did Clint read long books like that?). He no longer looked like he feared someone might jump him while eating. 

Other things were different too - Natasha and Clint were distant, though polite, a startling change from the inappropriate intimacy between the pair that Phil was so familiar with. They said hello in the mornings. Clint handed Natasha her tea. But he didn’t steal a sip or tease her for the amount of sugar. They didn’t sit twined together in a mash of limbs. Natasha did not pinch or jab or tease. There was something profoundly broken between the pair.

It all left Phil feeling unsettled.  

Two weeks in and everything else was settling into a new kind of normal. He discovered that most mornings, breakfast was served on the communal floor around nine. By that time Rogers was usually back from his early morning run and ready for a second breakfast. Stark would stagger out of either the workshop or his bedroom in search of coffee. Natasha shocked Phil by showing up in pajamas every morning, often with a novel in hand. Rogers usually made breakfast and the offerings varied daily. On the first morning it was a giant fry up of omelettes, bacon, and sausage. Later that week, about five different varieties of pancakes were piled, still steaming, on the breakfast bar when Phil wandered in. Sunday revealed a delicate offering of crepes. 

Clint told Phil that Rogers watched a lot of culinary TV. 

After breakfast, people wandered off to their various domains. Sometimes Dr. Banner and Stark left together to either workshop or lab, while sometimes they pursued their own projects. About twice a week Pepper Potts showed up for breakfast (as always with a kind word and gentle smile for Phil) to drag Stark off to various business meetings. Thor, Rogers, Clint, and Natasha often spent their mornings sharpening their skills (or blades) in a state of the art gym designed with them in mind.

Lunch tended to be a free for all. There were rarely leftovers in a house of Avengers. (Rogers’s metabolism required at least 4 times what a normal man would eat without any physical activity. Natasha’s burned calories at twice the rate a normal, highly fit woman did. Dr. Banner and Thor each had increased caloric needs. Stark seemed to forget to eat, but would then demolish three plates when he emerged. Clint, having spent most of his childhood hungry, was still making up for lost time. Phil was the only one with relatively normal eating patterns.) But Stark kept a well stocked pantry and fridge, allowing them all to find something to eat. 

In the afternoons, everyone once again disappeared for individual pursuits. This was usually when Phil got to spend time with Tasha and Clint, always on the guest floor. They filled him in on the battles they had fought, the way that Rogers lead the team, and other happenings over the past year. They did not touch or squabble or interrupt each other’s story telling, and Phil felt chilled. At some point, Natasha would leave (no doubt purposefully) giving Clint and Phil time to rediscover each other in other ways. 

The Avengers usually (but not always) reconvened for dinner. Wednesday nights turned out to be movie nights at Avengers tower, which Phil enjoyed more than he thought he would. The team seemed be at their easiest with each other, then, yelling their confusion, complaints, and critiques at the television and each other. It was always honestly refreshing and fun.

Thursday Phil finally asked why no one was being called out on missions. Rogers got shifty, and Stark brought up a wonderful video of Rogers’s demands to Fury after finding out Phil was alive. There was something quite satisfying about the poorly hidden terror in Fury’s one eye as Rogers laid out his requirements over the shattered remains of the table - one of which had been no missions for two weeks, unless the world was ending.

Dinner was Phil’s favorite time at Avengers tower. Unfailingly, it was loud, and cheerful, and full of  camaraderie that Phil would never have believed a year ago.There seemed to be some sort of rotation for who’s turn it was to make dinner, but it wasn’t something Phil could make sense of. (Stark ordered food twice in a row, followed by one of Natasha’s intricate salads, followed by some ethnic dish by Dr. Banner that had nearly burned Phil’s tongue out of his mouth, followed by Stark again). In varying groups, dinner often descended into TV watching and game playing. By 10’o’clock, Phil found himself exhausted by trying to make sense of it all and retreated to bed. He always invited Clint to come with him, and Clint always refused with a sort of sad frown on his face.

Phil wondered. Clint had always been prone to the occasional wet bed. It was something Phil had learned to live with over the years. Maybe that was something that had increased when Phil was gone? It was the only explanation that made any sense to Phil, as Clint seemed more than happy to share his bed in other ways. Phil would have asked, but now found that it no longer felt like his place.

And while things were good with Clint (better than he imagined they would be, that first night), the differences in Clint left him tossing and turning most nights, wondering. What had changed? Was it that Clint was little now? What had Phil missed that had changed his lover and partner so much? 

It was Friday of the second week when Phil worked up the courage to ask. Clint and he were in Clint’s room, lying on the couch, not speaking. The silence was still and comfortable, but over Clint’s shoulder Phil could see a small stack of books on a shelf - while Clint could read at a second grade level after extensive support at SHIELD, he never chose to read. It was one thing among many that Phil could make no sense of it.   

“Clint?” 

Clint gave a half hearted, sleepy mumble. 

“I need to see you and Captain Rogers play.” 

Clint was immediately totally awake and taut in Phil’s arms. He sat up gently, but quickly, and looked down at Phil. There was trepidation and perhaps some fear in his eyes. Phil sat up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I needed to, or wanted to, really. But… you’ve changed in the last year. It’s not bad,” Phil rushed to reassure as Clint pulled back and curled into himself more deeply. “I just think to understand I need to see.”

“I have to talk to Steve.” Clint mumbled. 

“Of course.” Clint clambered to his feet, looking anywhere but at Phil. “Wait, right now?”

“I need to talk to Steve.” Clint repeated, turned, and vanished out his front door, leaving Phil alone and wishing he could take it all back.

 

It was Rogers who came to him, later that same day. Phil had retreated to his own quarters and was trying to lose himself in a book Dr. Banner had loaned him, but his mind kept going back to Clint, hunched and tight and saying “I need to talk to Steve.” JARVIS announced Rogers, and Phil was at least getting used to that. Phil set his book down and was just standing up as Rogers came in.

“Agent Coulson.”

“Hello Captain.”

They exchanged stares for a long moment. Rogers was the first to give, and ducked his head, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“Clint and I talked. We’re both willing for you to watch us play.” Phil’s heart missed a beat, and he didn’t know if it was excitement or fear. “We’re going to set some ground rules though. We’ve never played in front of anyone else, so I’m not sure it’s really going ta’ happen. Clint might not be able to get into his headspace with you there.” Phil was sure Rogers doesn’t mean that as an accusation, but it felt like one. He held back a flinch. “So we’re going to have JARVIS call you in when Clint feels ready. _Not before,_ ” Rogers stressed.

Phil nodded.

“And then you can come in, and sit wherever we are - probably the living room - and watch. But you shouldn’t say anything unless one of us talks to you first, and you shouldn’t move or follow us unless we invite you. Is that all clear?” Phil nodded again, swallowing tightly and feeling like he really had no idea what he was getting himself into. Rogers relaxed a little at Phil’s nod.

He rubbed his hands through his hair again and looked down at Phil. “I don’t mean to be harsh. I know that you love Clint and that you would never hurt him. But this is new and this part of Clint is mine to protect now.” 

Phil buried the jealously deeply and quickly. He could do this. He could give this to Clint.

“I understand.”

Rogers nodded again and sighed, looking unexpectedly tired. “Tomorrow morning is probably best. Clint and I usually play over the weekends and leaving this too long will just make everyone more anxious. JARVIS will probably call for you around ten, so you can have breakfast with the team if you want. And...we’ll see how it goes.” 

Phil nodded again, but Rogers was already turning and leaving.

Phil didn’t know if he wanted tomorrow to ever come.

 

*

Phil didn’t know what he expected, really. He guessed that when Clint had given him that book and every time after, Phil’s head had gone straight to _baby_. Infantilism, he guessed it was called. But Clint didn’t look a whole lot different than usual. He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a cat in a cardboard box on it that read ‘If it fits, I sits’ and a pair of loose sweatpants.

Phil followed Rogers’s directions and sat down on the edge of the couch. Clint had tensed up when Phil came in, but Rogers quickly distracted him with some of the blocks that were spread across the floor. Rogers and Clint were both seated on the floor, Clint up on his knees and leaning over...whatever it was they were building. Clint remained tense and didn’t talk for at least the first half hour, but Rogers kept up a steady stream of conversation anyway. Apparently, they were building an outerspace farm.

Well, that did sound like something Clint would think up.

Phil found himself relaxing too, as nothing more exciting than a game of blocks happened. Again, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Not this...innocent play, though. Phil tensed again as Clint spoke for the first time.

“Not there, Daddy! Don’t be silly. The astronaut cow goes on Mars!”

“Oh, silly me, of course it does! What was Daddy thinking!” Rogers was smiling fondly at Clint and Clint gave a little giggle as he moved the cow figurine. Clint seemed to have (momentarily) forgotten Phil’s presence, which wasn’t like him.

This wasn’t his Clint, Phil thought, looking at the man - no, the little boy in front of him. This Clint did belong to Rogers, who could encourage silliness and safety, who could be Daddy. Phil felt relieved. It was clear, watching the two play together, that they fit together in this way. Phil could not have done this. He hadn’t said no wrongly and neither did it mean anything about he and Clint.

This was a different part of Clint, and this Clint belonged to Rogers the same way mischievous, roughhousing, explicitly sexual, unexpectedly romantic, full of surprises Clint belonged to Phil. If there were things that Phil no longer recognized, perhaps they were a part of the Clint that belonged to Rogers. Phil would learn to love them.

Okay, then. This he could do.

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this little piece, though there is plenty of Steve, Clint, and Phil figuring shit out to come! I have a question to ask you readers; there are two sequels ready to go. One continues to explore the dynamic set up in this story, the other brings us to canon in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Which would you prefer to see first? (Don't worry, they'll both get posted eventually). Let me know and, as always, thanks for reading, commenting, and kudoing!


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